


For art's sake

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Not all of Jack's skills require a bed, but they may require a couch
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Kudos: 9
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2017





	For art's sake

He'd really though Jack was having him on when he'd randomly come up to him late one afternoon and asked if he could draw Ianto, naked of course.

'Are you sure you haven't accidentally been zapped by something you shouldn't have been playing with?' he asked, quirking an eye at his oftentimes insane lover.

'Why does everything I do have to be treated with such suspicion?' Jack complained, wrapping himself tightly around Ianto's waist so that he couldn't get away, nor try and start an argument.

'Since when did you become all artistic?'

'I can draw. I was stuck in a time loop for five years with very little supplies and a serial murderer for company. You'd be amazed at what skills you can pick up when you're bored.'

'Hmm,' he said, narrowing his eyes at Jack.

'I can draw,' Jack repeated, annoyed at the tone of skepticism.

Not if the stick figures that got passed under his nose during long meetings were anything to go by, he thought. They were crude in their style and crude in their suggestions, with Jack often illustrating his plans for their evening, all in grotesque detail.

'Come on,' he pleaded, still waiting for Ianto to say something. 'Owen and Tosh are at that conference at Porton Down, and Gwen has the evening off with Rhys. That leaves us the entire hub to ourselves.'

Ianto looked at him hard. 'And it has to be naked?'

Jack played with Ianto's lapels. 'These clothes hide all your best features.'

Four hours later, Ianto had arranged to meet Jack down in the archives at Jack's request. Why, he wasn't yet sure. He still couldn't quite believe he'd agreed to Jack's request, but the beer he'd had with dinner had relaxed him a little, which was intentional. He suspected that without it, he'd never go through with it. He probably should have had two.

'Isn't it a little dark down here?' he said, standing in the shadowy depths of the hub's storage facilities.

'Come see,' Jack said, reaching out for his hand and dragging him down the hall, past a long row of shelves and into another of the massive vaults. Ianto was starting to get the feeling that Jack's drawing plans had all just been a ruse to get him down here, which was totally unnecessary. If he'd wanted a shag in the dark, he needed only to ask.

Just when he thought he was safely off the hook, they turned a corner and Ianto saw what could only be described as the newest installation in the archives: a bourgeois corner. On the floor was an ornate Persian rug, in the middle of it, a large chaise lounge in mahogany and deep burgundy leather, studded in brass. On it were several plump cushions and a large animal skin draped over the leather, in shades of grey, white and beige. All around were various lamps giving the place a warm yellow glow. On the whole, it actually looked quite cosy.

'A shame you didn't have any work to do this afternoon,' Ianto quipped. 'Where did all this come from?'

'You only think you're the master of the archives,' Jack replied, pleased to have outwitted his clever companion. 'This stuff has been down here for years. Now come on, kit off.'

Ianto reluctantly disrobed, feeling unusually self conscious. 'What about you?' he asked.

'You want me to draw you naked?'

'That's what you asked me,' he said, enjoying twisting Jack's words.

'Very funny, but I need you to keep still, and I don't think my being naked is going to help you on that front.'

'Some of us can control ourselves,' Ianto replied, smirking at Jack. 'I should be more worried about you losing focus.'

'Stop being cute and just sit on the chair,' he said, pointing at the chaise.

Ianto perched awkwardly on the edge, unsure to what to do next.

'Lie down, make your self comfortable. I didn't plan on doing a study in awkwardness.'

Ianto tried repositioning the cushions. Traditionally, he'd never found these sorts of lounges to be any sort of comfortable, but the animal fur underneath him was remarkably thick and soft. He didn't recognise it as being a pelt from any animal on earth he could think of, assuming it to be alien of some kind. He was tempted to snuggle into it.

Jack made his way over and made a few tweaks to the cushions himself before stepping back and looking, then going back and adjusting a bit more.

'This is all terribly complicated for something to stick on our fridge,' he said, not that he thought for a moment anything Jack drew would ever see the light of day, let alone be allowed to be put on display for all and sundry to see.

Finally satisfied, Jack took his place in an armchair opposite, a few yards away and settled the large sketchbook on his lap.

'Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack,' Ianto teased. Jack just grinned at him. That was exactly what he intended on doing.

Staying still was harder than he'd anticipated. He wasn't accustomed to doing nothing, and Jack scolded him several times for squirming, scratching his nose, his ear, and anything else that suddenly became itchy if he thought about it for too long. He'd half expected this would last about ten minutes before Jack got tired of playing games and just took him right there on the lounge.

'Stop thinking dirty thoughts,' Jack berated. 'Unless of course you want me to draw you with a hard on.'

Ianto flushed bright red and his reaction had the intended effect.

As difficult as staying still had been, he eventually settled into a spot against the cushions and the throw that was very comfy indeed. Added to that was the distracting sight in front of him. Watching Jack, watching him was far more fascinating. The way Jack scrutinised him made him self conscious at the start, but the intensity of his concentration was profound, his hand moving out of sight behind the large sketch pad, eyes flicking up and down, that little crease in his brow when he frowned in deep thought, the way he was completely somewhere else and right there in the moment all at the same time, and Ianto was transfixed by the attention. Jack rarely had patience for anything but he was like a completely different person now. Ianto could hear the soft movements of pencil scratching the textured paper, a gentle sound. It was only as his mind was drifting with the sound that he recalled the dozens of ancient case files locked away not far from here.

Back in the early days, there'd been no computers, no cameras and no photographs. Anything that needed to be depicted graphically had to be done by hand. There were lots of files with sketches of pieces of alien technology and drawings of creatures that the team had encountered over the years. Some had just the barest of sketches, presumably because no one had time to take in the finer details when pursuing it for capture, or perhaps being pursued by it. Others were much more refined, clearly having been there for long enough to be sketched in situ. He'd never given a thought as to which members of the team had contributed such fine illustrations, and certainly never considered Jack for the role. He chanced disrupting Jack's concentration and his own promise to keep still.

'The old files in the archives. The pre-twentieth century ones. Was that you who drew them?'

Jack looked up at him. 'Some. Charles had a dab hand too, though he preferred watercolours.'

Always full of surprises, Ianto thought, saying no more.

After half an hour, Ianto finally eased into his role as model, and a little too much, nestling against the large cushion beneath his head. The fur beneath him was pretty good too, so thick and luxurious, and he could see himself finding a way of migrating it upstairs and into Jack's bunker, even if the rest of the furniture was a little on the gaudy side. He slipped a little further down into its soft folds, slowly so that Jack wouldn't notice too much and tell him off again. Finding his sweet spot, he relaxed deeply, eventually nodding off to sleep completely.

Jack's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. 'Ianto.'

'Huh?'

'You fell asleep.' Jack reached out a blanket in his hand and Ianto sat up, wrapping it gratefully around his shoulder, not having noticed until now that the room had grown quite cool.

'Thanks.'

Jack sat down on the chaise next to him, sketch pad gripped at his side. 'Posing as a model must be tiring work.'

'What, you've never tried it for yourself?'

'I'm better as an exhibition than as subject matter.'

'Of course you are,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'Sorry,' he apologised, 'I wasn't bored, I promise.'

'Don't be, it at least it mean you stayed still,' Jack laughed.

'Har har.'

'Wanna see?'

Of course he wanted to see. His owned nudity aside, he was far more interested in the finished product. He hoped it hadn't all been an elaborate prank with some Picasso style children's drawing where half his features were on the wrong side of his face and his other features lower down distorted and misrepresented. He knew on which side Jack would err on that particular front.

Jack turned the sketch book around and Ianto nearly fell over in shock. To say it was good was an understatement, almost photo perfect, beautiful and flattering and something else he couldn't put his finger on. He almost forgot his own embarrassment at seeing himself in all his glory on paper, with nothing at all left to the imagination.

'What do you think?'

'I don't know what to say.' He honestly didn't. Jack had a real gift. How had he gone all this time and never revealed this rather obvious talent. All those rude stick figures he usually doodled were a far cry from the simply beauty of light and shade, black on white, with five hundred shades of grey in between. There was no way that this was going on a fridge. It was far too good for that. If it hadn't been him, he would have said it should be framed in a gallery.

'You should give up the hero trade,' he replied glibly.

'Perhaps, but where would I ever find a model quite so inspiring?' he said, pulling Ianto down on top of him to receive his reward for the commission.


End file.
